


Intruder

by falloutboyaf



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternative Universe - Married, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutboyaf/pseuds/falloutboyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something wakes Patrick up in the middle of the night. Someone is in the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> MORE PETERICK??!!?!  
> yes.

Patrick sat up quickly in the night, terrified. He was drifting off to sleep, and he swore to fucking god that their front door just opened and closed. And, wait, did he lock it? Oh fuck.  
"Pete." He whispered, shaking him violently.  
"What the fuck?!" Pete said, swatting his hand away. He looked up, and through the dark Patrick could hardly see his messy hair and annoyed expression.  
"Shut up! Be quiet." Patrick replied quietly, a finger to his lips. Pete did so. "Listen. Shit, did you hear that?"  
Pete looked more awake suddenly. His eyebrows furrowed as he listened closely. There was a small noise downstairs.  
"It's nothing." Pete said to Patrick, rubbing his arm comfortingly, and sitting up.  
"But what if it isn't? Pete, I don't think I locked the door. This is Chicago. Go check, please."  
"Jesus, you're such a baby." Pete said, but got up nonetheless, mostly for Patrick's mental well being. Patrick followed quietly. "Go check on the kids and get me one of Bronx's baseball bats."  
He nodded his head, and tip toed into Bronx and Declan's room. They were both sleeping peacefully, Bronx making little breathing noises. For a moment, Patrick smiled to himself, heart swelling happily. But after spotting the bat leaning by the dresser, he was focused again.  
Pete was waiting at the top of the stairs, looking down into the dark. He turned to see Patrick, who handed him the bat.  
"I heard footsteps." Pete said firmly.  
"Shit, shit, shit," Patrick said. His lungs didn't seem to be getting enough air, his palms got sweaty.  
"It's okay, baby. Don't worry." Pete said, kissing him quickly. "I got it. Just stay here and watch the kids and-"  
The footsteps started. The person downstairs moved into the kitchen. Patrick wasn't sure if he'd ever been more afraid. Pete didn't know either, but his first instinct was protection. Bravery came stronger with him, than with Patrick, whose hands were shaking. Pete grabbed one, and looked at him calmly, even though it was hard to see in the dark.  
"Go into the kid's room and lock the door." He said. Then, Patrick leaned in, kissing him, parting quickly when the footsteps came closer to the staircase.  
He rushed into Declan and Bronx's room, locking the door behind him, trying to be as silent as he could be so as not to wake them. They'd be terrified if they knew.  
Pete inched down the stairs carefully, watching like a hawk for any movement in the dark. The footsteps had gone into the bathroom, and Pete waited outside, bat firmly in hand.  
Patrick was nearly having a panic attack, tears coming from his eyes, breath heavy, thinking about Pete and the kids. It stirred Bronx awake.  
"Who's that?" He asked.  
"It's me." Patrick said shakily, humiliated. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wished he'd thrown on some sort of hat before leaving, to hide under.  
"Are you okay?" Bronx asked, worried, as he climbed out of bed and approached Patrick. He was slumped against the door, face in his hands, trying to make his breathing calmer.  
"I'm fine. Go back to bed, please."  
"You're crying." Bronx said, stepping closer, and sitting in front of Patrick, and leaning forward, resting on his leg. Patrick laughed a bit, and ruffled his hair. "It's okay, Unc- I mean Dad."  
Dad. He was a dad. He was Bronx's dad. Only recently too. This almost made him forget about the situation. Almost. "Thanks, Bronx."  
The toilet flushed downstairs, after some horrific retching and vomiting, and the tap stopped. Pete lifted the bat, as the intruder opened the door.  
Once it was, Pete swung the bat straight into their face as hard as he could. They were knocked to the ground loudly.  
"FUCK!" They screamed, in a familiar voice.  
Pete lowered the bat, as his eyes adjusted to see their face.  
"Joe?! What the fuck?" He said angrily. "Why the fuck are you here? Patrick is having a fucking nervous breakdown up there!"  
Joe pinched his nose, which was bleeding. He pulled some toilet paper, and shoved it in his face. "I got drunk and didn't have any way to get home! My phone died, dude. Why'd you hit me with a bat?!"  
"You could have been a killer!"  
"Dude," Joe said, like Pete was full of shit. "Fine. I snuck in and scared you, you hit me in the face with a baseball bat. We're even. Help me up."  
Pete dropped the bat, and grabbed his arms to help him. His nose was gushing, cheek red, and eye already darkening. Pete sleepy and annoyed, and if he was around Joe any longer, he might just hit him again.  
"Stay here. I'm getting Patrick."  
Pete stomped up the stairs, flicking all the lights on as he did, and rattled the kid's door.  
Patrick unlocked it, stepping back. Bronx was close to tears from the yelling and was clinging to Patrick, who had remarkably calmed down, having switched into parenting mode. Declan was just now sitting up.  
"It was Joe." Pete said simply. Patrick's face contorted into a look of disgust, and confusion.  
"What?"  
"He got drunk, or stoned, or some shit, and couldn't get home." Pete explained. Then he noticed Bronx. "Hey little man, you okay?"  
Bronx ran to him, and Pete picked him up.  
"I'll be back. Take care of Declan for me?" Patrick asked, nodding his head towards the crib where the one year old was grabbing the bars and looking at all the commotion.  
Pete nodded. Patrick went downstairs. Joe sat calmly on the couch, with a rag to his nose, and some ice on his cheek. Once he noticed Patrick, he gave him a face that said "Ta Da! It's me!", which obviously pained him a second later.  
"What were you thinking?"  
"Don't be mad, dude." Joe said. "I didn't wanna drive all high and drunk and shit. I was gonna leave early tomorrow."  
"You could have gotten a taxi." He suggested stiffly, with clenched teeth.  
"Phone died."  
"For god's sake Joe. Really? Not even a knock?!"  
He shrugged, like it was no big deal. "I don't usually knock."  
"It's fucking two thirty in the morning!" Patrick argued, balling his hands into fists. He was trying to keep his cool, and he didn't know if it was because he hadn't slept at all tonight, or if it was because he was already stressed out having just barged into a new family, or because this was really actually fucking rude, but he was thinking about taking a swing at Joe.  
Joe ran his fingers through his hair and then scratched the back of his neck. "Can I still crash here?"  
Patrick sighed, rubbing his temples. "I guess. We'll talk in the morning, if you're sober by then. Go to bed though."  
Joe sat up, and gave Patrick a giant hug. "Dude," He said, for no reason in particular, and began leaning more into Patrick, almost falling  
"Get off me, Joe. You're wasted. Goodnight." Patrick turned abruptly and went back upstairs to the kids and Pete.  
Pete was sitting on Bronx's bed, bouncing a whining Declan on his knee, and trying to tell Bronx what was happening over the noise. Bronx was up against the headboard, sleepy and pouting.  
"Hey," Patrick said with a small smile. Pete perked up and turned to see him in the doorway. He held Declan and walked over to Patrick.  
"What happened?" He asked. Declan stopped whining, and was grabbing at Patrick. Eventually, he was handed to Patrick, and Bronx made his way over, standing silently.  
"Nothing. I don't know, I got mad. He just kind of sat. At least he was being responsible." He said, a note of sarcasm in the last sentence.  
"I'm gonna tell him to go be responsible somewhere else," Pete smiled wide. Patrick couldn't help but grin back, but immediately looked down, forced by habit. "Hey, Trick, we should put these two to bed.  
"Yeah, yeah."  
Patrick put Declan back in his crib, and he and Pete both kissed his forehead. He'd mostly fallen asleep by then. Bronx was waiting patiently in his bed, already laid down. Pete sat on the side of his bed.  
"You okay, little man?" He asked, moving his blond hair out of his face. Bronx nodded. Pete pressed a kiss to his face. "Good. Sleep tight, Bronx. I love you"  
Once Bronx said his "I love you"s, Patrick nodded, and turned to walk away with Pete, but Pete grabbed his wrist before he could move. His eyes were wide, and he nodded his head towards Bronx, who was laying feebly, staring at Patrick. "Say goodnight." He mouthed.  
Patrick blushed, and sat where Pete had been. "Goodnight, Bronx."  
"Night Dada," Bronx said when Patrick hugged him. It made him inexplicably happy. "I love you."  
Patrick tried to hide a smile. "Love you too."  
Both Patrick and Pete got up, and turned the lights out to return to their own room. Once settled, Patrick moved closer to Pete.  
"Hey Patrick?" He asked, wrapping an arm around him. "You know, Bronx is your son now."  
Patrick froze. "I know."  
"But really. It's okay to say you love him and act like a dad. You know that, right? I mean, you don't feel weird do you?"  
Patrick pulled back, and flopped on his back, putting an arm over his eyes. "I don't know. He still thinks of me as Uncle Patrick."  
"You knew it would take getting used to, Patrick." His tone was almost worried.  
"I know, I know," He assured Pete. "I don't know what to do, though."  
"Act like a dad. This is all new for us all. We've only been married a month," Pete fiddled with the dark silver band on his finger, looking at it fondly. "This is when you gotta. He loved you as his uncle, he'll love you as a dad. You gotta be one first."  
The lamp were bright, and the lack of sleep was making Patrick feel weird, and all he wanted to do was sleep. "I love you."  
"I love you too, Trick. And I love Declan." Pete replied. "You know, I'm really happy this happened. When I was twenty one..." He chuckled. "God, I thought I'd be six feet under by now."  
Patrick thought of being sixteen. Remembering his pact to kill himself wasn't one of the best memories. "Me too."  
"But this," Pete tried to find the words. "This is just... Way fucking more than I could ask for. This family, is more than I could ask for."  
Family.  
Patrick bit his lip at that. It was all so new and all so perfect and he knew exactly what Pete was saying.  
"I'm more than you could ask for..." He joked.  
"You will stay humble!" Pete said back, tickling Patrick's side. He yelped and shoved at Pete, who was just laughing to himself, eyes bright and crinkled at the side because of the smile. When he saw Patrick roll his eyes, he smirked and pulled him into a kiss.  
And yeah, okay, this was more than Patrick could ask for too. Maybe it was the best thing to ever happen to him. Maybe, he wouldn't rather be anywhere else right now than in his home with his husband and his kids. Patrick still couldn't believe it.  
He pulled away, and stared at Pete for a moment. Then, he laughed, and cuddled as close to Pete as he could possibly get.  
"Clingy," Pete said, tangling their legs together.  
"You turn co-dependent into an art form, Pete, shut up."  
"I do, huh?" He agreed.  
They fell silent.  
Patrick thought one last thing before falling asleep. Something that made all the shit he'd been through in his life feel worthwhile. It made every problem before meaningless. With his head resting under Pete's chin, pillow under him, bundled under the covers and covered in Pete's arms, it was the most important thing. And the best part, was that he knew that finally, finally Pete was thinking the same thing.  
"I'm happy."


End file.
